Page 12 of Loved By The Orc (Monster Orc Brides #4)

Negan:

WE WALK HAND in hand to the hotel when the party winds down.

It feels so normal, like we’ve done this a million times and maybe it’s because he walked me home to Rosemary’s earlier?

We’re just so comfortable together, walking in silence, listening to the crickets in the night, or talking about everything under the sun.

Knowing this male wants forever? That he’ll take the time to make me his without pain? Without conquering me?

I think he may be the one.

We’re both conscious of the late hour when we head through the village so we walk softly and head straight up to our shared suite. With another tender shared kiss, and a thorough search of my room, he leaves me for his own.

My dreams are filled with a handsome, strong orc. One with massive biceps, dark eyes, and glossy hair tinged with green. Gleaming white teeth and if the bulge in his pants is anything to go by, an enormous jutting cock.

We sleep in the next morning and while I’m not tired, I’m also aware that this is Varguk’s one night to rest. I’m not sure how comfortable he’ll be sleeping in a wagon, or if he’ll even do that. Mayhap it’ll be an easy way for others, either his clan or mine, to find him .

So I force myself to lay still, to stay quiet, until my orc guard wakes on his own. When he does stumble into my room in the late morn, he crawls in with me and sleeps a little longer.

His face is softer in sleep. I study him carefully because any movement will wake him and he needs his rest.

When he does stir, his eyes open and seek me immediately. “We’ll need to check out by two, eh?”

I nod sadly.

“Enough time to shower then,” he says with a yawn. “And we’ll enjoy a late breakfast together before I take you to your aunt’s.”

The thought of showering with this male makes me go all giddy inside. I’ll finally get to see the cock between his thighs; see what I’m in for. One day, hopefully soon.

I slide out of bed and slip on the robe they keep for guests.

Var slips out the opposite side and walks bare-assed back to his room.

By the time we meet in the main area of our suite, he’s got his robe on and tied around him.

In the back of the hotel, there is a huge wooden deck with about six showers.

‘Tis late enough in the day that they’re all empty.

Each shower is enclosed with the privacy fence made of wood, with the feet and head area exposed.

A large bucket is poised on top of each.

Varguk ushers me into one of the shower stalls. He gazes into my eyes as he unties my robe, careful with his calluses as he brushes against my skin. He treats me like I’m something precious.

When I step out of the robe, he hangs it on a hook just outside of the wooden barrier. I stand nude while I watch him remove his and hang it with mine.

Never has a male been so utterly beautiful. He turns toward me, proud and strong. and I love the way he studies me with glittering eyes as if I’m the most precious thing on earth. He pulls me close to him and brings us right under the bucket.

“Ready?” he asks .

I nod once and he pulls the string. Warm water sprays us both. It trickles down his head, wetting his hair, calling attention to his sharp cheekbones, and slicking down his beautiful chest.

He takes a bar of soap and lathers his hands.

I watch in utter fascination as the bar almost disappears in his palm before suds cover long thick fingers.

He’s so graceful as he lathers up that it quickens my breath.

He puts the bar back in the resting spot and slowly places both soapy palms on my breasts.

Great Goddess Almighty. Nothing in this world has ever felt so sinfully delicious.

We lock eyes before his large hands start rubbing the lather onto my breasts. His thumbs roll over my hardened nipples and the pleasure zings throughout my body.

I stifle a moan.

“You could have this every day. I know I’d never get tired of taking care of you.”

The idea of spending all day with him makes my belly swoop. “And guess what?”

“What?” he asks, his thumbs continuing to rub erotically over my sensitive nipples.

“I’d do the same for you.”

I clasp my hands to his, working my fingers between his to gather the lather, then begin to rub his chest. We’re rubbing each other back and forth and my hand trails down to the middle of his groin. The wound in his abs is stitched with dark thread; it looks angry and darker green.

“Are you sore?”

“Not there,” he says.

As if he still disbelieves that I want him, he moves his hand down to cup my sex, and his middle finger slides along the outside of my seam. He groans when he feels how slick I am for him.

“Where then?” I ask, my brow furrowed .

“Here.” He takes my hand and boldly places it on his cock. It’s absolutely beautiful, curved upward, thickly veined and a darker green than the rest of his skin.

He tosses his head back and groans, leaving me with the broad expanse of neck to see. A male throat has never looked so sexy.

I reach for the soap and start lathering my hands, then rub them up and down his slippery cock. It’s stiff and full in my hand and slowly I stroke it.

“You’ll make me come,” he warns.

“I can’t wait.”

I tighten my grip and enjoy the grunts that come from his throat. He covers my hand with his and we work it together. And nothing… nothing beats the image of when he begins the slow, uncontrollable dance of thrusting his hips.

When he groans my name, I step forward to make sure he shoots his thick ropes of cum onto my belly. He stares entranced at the sight, then reaches out and rubs it into my skin like he’s marking me. Then he leans forward and kisses me.

“Ahh, Negan. My Negan,” he says. “Let me make you come too? On my fingers.”

Desire snakes through my lower body. Yes, I want that. I really, really want that. He reaches up for the rope and douses us both, the warm water washing away the soap. Then he leans down, hunching in toward me, and cups my pussy.

“One day soon, I’m going to eat this cunt,” he growls into my ear. “Will bring you so much pleasure you’ll scream my name.”

Afterward, he wraps me in the thick robe and we make our way back to the room to dress. He gathers both our bags and we head out to Aunt Rosemary’s.

She’s sitting with Uncle Paul on the front porch as we approach, but quickly stands. “Good morning, my precious,” she says, as she kisses my cheek. “Varguk, how are you feeling today? ”

He looks startled to be asked.

“Fine.”

“He’s a little sore,” I counter. “Wicked slash across his lower belly.”

“Just looks a fright because your males can’t stitch,” he counters.

Aunt Rosemary grins. “My Abigail left you a poultice to sleep with tonight. And a tincture she says will ease the pain.”

“A smart little witch, that one,” Uncle Paul says, then waves his hand toward the house. “Go on in. Get comfortable with the place. We want Varguk to know where everything is. Oh, and the wagon is ready. The Blackheart king came by early this morning and put a mattress and bedding inside.”

I wink at Var. “Wants to make sure you’re comfy.”

He snorts.

Mayhap our king makes a valiant effort to keep the male from my bed, probably at my father’s request.

“We’ll put the poultice on now,” I decide. “Under your clothing. I can give you a stretchy material—a band—to keep it in place.”

Uncle Paul snickers. “A bra.”

“What?” Var scowls.

“No one will know.” I soothe his ruffled feathers and take him by the hand, grabbing the basket off the table with my other.

Uncle Paul guffaws behind me. “I will know.”

“Don’t listen to him. He wears Aunt Rosemary’s panties.”

My aunt’s tinkling laughter rings out as Var looks much more mellow. But as soon as we climb the stairs to my bedroom, he whispers, “I’d prefer the panties. Will keep them in my pocket.”

“Then be good and wear the poultice. No need for you to suffer. It will numb the area and help it heal faster.”

He lays out on the bed, pulling his sleeveless tunic up over his head.

His wound is cleaned, but still looks sore, probably from me striking him there yesterday.

Carefully I sprinkle water on the poultice to activate it, and lay it gently over the wound.

I tape the edges down and then work one of my bands up his legs, figuring it would be easier to get over his hips than his massively broad shoulders.

Though, his bulky thigh muscles are nothing to sneeze at.

I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t stretch the band within an inch of its life.

Once it’s worked up, I hold it up with one hand and gently lay it over the poultice. “There,” I say, relieved. Gently, I smooth his hair from his forehead. “You’ll heal so much faster now.”

There’s something indefinable in his gaze. Then he reaches for my hand and kisses my fingertips. “Thank you.”

Such simple words, yet so heartfelt. I don’t think this beautiful male has ever had care from another in his entire life.

I take a step back to give him room to rise.

“This is my room when I stay. When we were kids, we each had a secret drawer built into the wall by Uncle Paul. He said little women needed a place to hide their secrets. Shally, Hisa, and I kept our diaries in the drawers, spilling all our secrets about boys.” I head over to where my drawer is kept, and tap the wall where a spring is placed to pop the drawer from the plaster.

I pull out my diary. ‘Tis beautiful, really.

Leatherbound, with a twine around it that locks it in place. I hand it to him.

“You want me to read this?” he asks.

I snort. “Not much to read. I didn’t have boy-secrets. Instead, mine is made up of daily life.”

He opens it to find an entry from when I was eight. How a female orc came to market and stared at me. How the dark look in her eyes had frightened me. How Aunt Rosemary didn’t like that and ushered me inside for the rest of the day.

“Was she Blackheart?” he asks.

“Aye. A few hours later, my father came to town to have dinner with us. As an adult, I realize he must’ve gotten a message to come.

I was put to bed early, but had snuck out into the woods after he tucked me in.

Climbed down that very window.” I point to the bedroom curtains that flutter in the breeze.

“You see, by eight, my father had already taught me how to track. I followed him to find he confronted the female in the woods.”

My voice drifts off at the memory of the heated exchange, how the gorgeous female who’d looked at me with such hatred in her eyes had softened for my handsome father. How she’d become more beautiful instantly… then offered herself to him.

And how he’d turned her down.

“Who was she?” Var asks softly, tracing the picture I’d drawn. The facial tattoo, the delicate arched eyebrows, the ripe plumpness of her lips that looks so familiar now when I look in the mirror. ‘Tis a child’s drawing, but the image always stands bright in my mind’s eye.

“My mother.”

His sharp inhalation makes me smile briefly.

“I never met her, but I memorized her features so I would know to hide the next time she came.”

“Hide? Why?”

“An innate sense, a feeling of wrongness. When I look at the female, I know she means me harm. She wouldn’t hesitate to drown me.”

Varguk watches me carefully, so I focus on him.

“Bakog got into trouble once. He’d had a vision of the past, while my father was still mated to her.

He’d come home early one day to find me held under in a basin of water.

He’d struck my mother, so hard it knocked her out.

Pushed the water from my lungs and gave me his own breath until I recovered.

Bakog’s mum walked in and halted the story, told him it was up to his Uncle Oshin to share personal tales with his daughter.

And she made Bakog tell my father how much he’d shared with me up until that point. ”

“Was your father upset?”

“More… resigned, I think. He patted Bakog’s shoulder and thanked him.

I’m not sure if he ever meant to share the tale with me, but it began a new tradition for us.

From that point onward, we shared our truths, even if it hurt at the time.

I think that’s what helped me get over th at I didn’t have a mother raising me.

How easily I accepted the guidance from the West Mountain females instead. ”

“Then you’ll share with your father our relationship?”

“Aye. I will. I just didn’t want to start it until he left so I wouldn’t have anything to tell him until he returned. I knew he might worry and this trip, well, ‘tis a vacation for him. He should have a good time.”

I take the old diary from him and place it back into the drawer, shutting it gently until the drawer seamlessly merges with the wall once more and becomes invisible. He moves over to the window and looks down.

I come over to stand with him. “That is the trellis I used to climb down. When we were home alone, we always made sure the wood was sturdy and attached to the wall for a quick escape.” I smile, remembering the plans and instructions from Shally and Hisa. The secrets we’d kept together.

His finger runs down my spine, all the way to the end of my tailbone, making sensations tingle along my spine.

“I’ll make sure it’s sturdy enough to support a full-grown male,” he says. “But you won’t be coming down it, Negan. I’ll be coming up to visit at midnight.”

“Y-you will?”

“Aye. Will ping a rock against the window to let you know to undress.”